The Return of Galbatorix and the Forsworn
by Girl of Twilight Wings
Summary: In Alagaesia, Ismira, daughter of Roran Stronghammer and Katrina, age 15, has had a dragon hatch for her. At the same time in Middle Earth, a young Legolas is rebelling against his parents. When evil emerges in both worlds, the two meet. What could possibly happen? Spoilers for Inheritance, set in the 2nd age in Middle Earth. T for paranoia.
1. Chapter 1

Ismira

**Hello! I don't think anyone got this idea, so I hope that its original enough for all you people out there. So, I'm sure you all remember Ismira, Roran and Katrina's daughter, who was a baby in **_**Inheritance**_**. Now, this is the journey continued. Also, there will be spoilers for anyone who has not read the entire series yet.**

* * *

My arms pump solidly as I run. I feel the wind racing through my long brown hair as the wind whips it back. Rain dances on the ground around me, plunging through the air around me.

If you haven't figured it out by now, I am going for a nice long run in the rain down to Carvahall from the Manor.

My name is Ismira, daughter of Roran Stronghammer and Katrina, meaning I guess my last name is Stronghammer. I really don't like it though, and usually just go by Ismira. I'm more agile than strong, in my opinion.

Since I've launched into my back story, I might as well give you a description of myself. I am five feet and two inches tall, have long autumn brown hair, tan skin, and lime green eyes. I am fourteen years old to this day.

Of course, that makes me the age to be tested with a dragon egg.

It is very rare to be chosen as a rider, in fact, the only two so far are my friend, an urgal boy named Sharlvzog and a dwarf man named Horrin, Sharlvzog being seventeen and Horrin being thirty.

I don't think a dragon will choose me. Not now, not ever. My personality is more rebellious and wild, and even though my family has everything we need so we don't have to go adventuring, you can almost never find me in town or at the Manor. I enjoy the peace and quiet the woods radiate.

Also, I like hanging out with some of the Urgal teens and the elves, and maybe a dwarven trader or two. I've even met Angela the herbalist and her werecat Solembum.

I didn't need a horse to travel three miles in eighteen minutes, but it's tiring. I race into town and skid to a stop just short of the clearing and walk in, wiping sweat from my brow. Jesus, I was almost late!

"Alright, all legible youths for the testing are to follow me." A man calls.

My friend, Marrie, elbows me playfully. "Do you think I'll get chosen this time? It's been a few years, maybe the dragon in there is tired of waiting to hatch? I hear they traded it with the elves."

"It must be uptight, then, to deny _every_ elf the kingdom has to offer." I say, rolling my eyes.

She sighs. "I guess you're right, but that doesn't mean it won't happen this time. Aren't we to spend a night with it to determine who it belongs to, I mean separately, of course." She asks.

"Yep." I say, exasperated. Marrie is two years older than me, meaning she was here last time one of the eggs was brought here.

We walk into a building called _Horst's Blacksmithing_, which was now run by Horst's son Albriech, who refuses to change the name in memory of his late father. Hope and Elain, who is reaching an old age, also live in the house near here. They've hosted the ceremony every time it's come to Carvahall.

I flick my soaked hair over my shoulder.

"Alright, we'll start this off by announcing that, since the elves had no luck with theirs, that we have two eggs here today. The first two who will be tested will be Ash Baldurson and Ismira Stronghammer." He announces.

He hands Ash a big grey stone, and I a beautiful violet one. I feel a rush as it is placed into my hands.

"Tomorrow, I would like to see…" I don't hear his voice anymore.

I am mesmerized by the intricate lacework of the veins in the egg, the white and violet coming together perfectly. I look at it and feel the dragon inside staring back, even if it really can't right now.

"… And that's it! Now, the two of you chosen will stay here tonight, and the rest of you can all head to the tavern while these two get settled in."

Everyone files out. I find that bringing everyone here just so all but two of them can leave is pretty redundant. Why not just have the two required to take the test just come down quietly without all the fuss and get the egg, and then spend a night at home?

"This is so redundant." Ash grumbles.

"That's exactly what I was thinking." I say, rolling my eyes. At least I'm not the only one.

He snorts. "Ismira Stronghammer, right? Apparently our parents are friends. I came over with Baldur and Silvinna, my mother, last night for a dinner party. Why didn't you attend? It was your Manor."

"I was in the woods." I say.

He shakes his head. "I will never understand anyone related to Eragon Kingslayer."

I roll my eyes. We then realize that we'll be expected to sleep in the same room.

"Um, My God, can you help me with this?" He asks, and soon we've used every piece of furniture in the room to create a barrier.

"Maybe this wasn't the best idea." I reflect, looking at the cluttered wall.

"True, but we can always sleep on the floor." He replies.

"So what do we do all day?" I ask.

"Stay here with the eggs, apparently." He replies.

"Well that's boring." I say, "No offense to the dragons."

He laughs. "Then what do you suppose we do?"

* * *

"I wish I hadn't asked." Ash sighs.

The eggs are in our backpacks, and I'm dangling upside down from a tree while he treks around looking for some kind of animal to track. The nearby waterfall roars like Firnen in a bad mood. I flip the page of a book Angela gave me about toads really being frogs.

She has some good points, actually, but when Eragon speaks to us with scrying, I can tell he's shocked I'm buying into it.

"Is that Angela the herbalist's book about frog and toad nonsense?" Ash asks.

My cheeks turn pink with humiliation and I say hurriedly in defense, "It isn't nonsense! She really has good points on the subject and she's lived a LOT longer than either of us or even my uncle Eragon, and even Eragon's mentor, Brom. You should pay a little respect!"

He rolls his eyes. "Aright, Aright I give! Toads are really frogs! You happy?"

I frown and jump out of the tree. "I'm heading to the Manor, you can have the blacksmith hole to yourself."

I race off at a pace he can't match and reach the Manor, which is actually very close, in a matter of two and a half minutes.

I have to say, Ash is kind of a loser. For the son of my Dad's close friend, who I know is very tough, he's shockingly cowardly. I expected a muscular guy who is friendly, but can turn down all opposition with a single glare, like Baldor and Horst.

I throw the door open and stride in, adding a smug swagger to my stride. Mom and Dad look surprised to see me.

"Aren't you supposed to be in town?" Asks Dad. (Roran, for those of you who don't remember who I am, (Meaning the daughter of the guy who is personal friends or family with every important person in and out of Alagaesia.))

"Yes, but I got stuck in the Blacksmiths' place with Ash doing nothing but chat and maybe look at the egg a bit, so I had us sneak out." I say, "And then Ash made fun of me and I ditched him in the Spine."

Mom sighs and mutters something under her breath that I can barely make out. "Why do you have to be such a little rebel?"

I don't respond, but I think everyone knows my answer would've been, _"Because you two were rebels and I inherited it, so blame yourselves."_

"Well, since you're here, I guess it would be pointless to send you back, seeing as you'd just come right home. So, what does the egg look like?" He asks, "I've only ever seen one, Saphira's."

I take the gem-like oval out of my pack, but hold it protectively.

He smiles. "Well, isn't that a sight to behold."

Mom spots it and smiles. They exchanged glances, which I'm not sure I understand.

"You can head up to your room now." They say.

I head up the stairs, past one of the servants, who was on her way to clean my room, and gave her a few crowns and told her to take the time off, then went into my room.

My room isn't a pigsty; it's just not exactly clean. I put things where I want them and keep them where I please. If anyone organized them, I'd never find anything ever again. So, naturally, I just have the servants gone, doing other things instead of clean my room, either jumping the schedule or taking a day off.

I place the egg on my desk after putting my potted plant on the windowsill and putting all the drawings and other papers in a neat stack on one side, with my books. I stare at the egg for a while, curiosity eating at me.

I've only ever seen Firnen. I wonder what this dragon will look like when it hatches.

I sit at my desk and draw my idea of what it will look like, in my opinion, based off of Firnen. My drawings are far from accurate, but they all depict reality well enough, just in a different way.

Soon, I have to light a candle to see. The sky is still dark and cloudy out there, not how I expected the day of the selection to be.

I stay up until way past what I know would be midnight, reading and drawing, watching the egg. I fall asleep with my face in a book.

* * *

I am awoken some time later by a piercing shriek. I leap up, throwing the book off me. I look around, heart racing. What the hell was that?

Another cry rings out, and there is a grinding noise. I relight the candle, which had gone out. There is no one here. Perhaps a magic user?

Suddenly, the egg falls off my desk. I can't believe it, OH MY GODS IT'S HATCHING FOR ME!

I kneel by the egg as cracks appear. A tiny nose pokes at a cracked area. I put the candle down on the desk and smile. "C'mon, you can do it!" I whisper, "Come out to the world, see it for the first time, c'mon out little one."

The little violet dragon sticks its head all the way out, and it emerges the rest of the way from the shell.

It sniffs at my hand, and I reach out and touch its snout…

And fly right back with a yell of shock and pain.

I hear a door banging open before I pass out.

* * *

When I wake up, I'm in bed with a purple dragon sitting on my stomach, making puppy dog eyes at me. My Mom and Dad are pacing the floors.

The dragon chirps happily as I wake up, and sticks its nose under my hand, forcing me to stroke the little creature. I laugh.

Mom and Dad race in.

"Are you alright?" Dad asks me.

"I'm fine, Dad." I say, and then lift my palm, looking at the gedwey insignia. Eragon said this happened to him.

I show my father the mark of a dragon rider, or dragon rider to be.

"Ismira." He gasps.

I realize that my time with my father is limited now. Soon I will have to take what was officially labeled as the rider's journey with my young dragon to train with my uncle.

My dragon senses my sadness and starts licking my face, as if trying to get me to cheer up.

It works, and soon my parents and I are laughing as the most ferocious beast in the land tries to lick me to death.

When the violet dragon stops, I ask, "Have you told Eragon yet?"

"No, we thought we'd let you break the news yourself," My father says, "When he calls tomorrow."

I nod and smile. "For now, get some rest. It seems your new companion has already fallen asleep." My mother gestured to the small cat sized dragon asleep, snuggled between my arm and my chest. I nod and they leave.

I extinguish the candle.

* * *

I am awoken again a few minutes later to a real scream, and so is my dragon. Roran leaps into my room and kicks my door down.

"Dad, what's happening?" I ask, shocked. I hear the cries of battle outside.

"Alagaesia is being overthrown." He gasps, "They are looking for you. You need to take Snowfire and leave now."

"But what about you? I can't just let you die!" I ask, tears in my eyes. This isn't happening, I'm going to open my eyes and this will have been a dream.

"I am Roran Stronghammer, my daughter. I will prevail, as I prevailed against Galbatorix's forces. You are now one of the most important people in all of Alagaesia, even though you were already before. You need to leave. Go to Elesmera, take this map. I'll hold them off here."

He thrusts a map in my hand and gets me down to the stable.

"Go, ride hard and fast!"

"I will come back for you dad!" I gasp through tears, "I will see you again! I will no matter what! I swear it!"

"Go!" He shouts, and I send Snowfire to a run.

My dragon is clinging to my arm, and I shift it so it's on my lap. Snowfire runs away, at an incredible pace that would make a Kull jealous.

I stare at the place I once called home as I set out alone, alone and away from home to whatever dangers lay beyond the safety of Carvahall.


	2. Chapter 2

Legolas

**Hello! Okay, now that I've started with Ismira's story, you'll get to hear a bit about Legolas as a young elf. Tensions are rising in Alagaesia and now, Middle Earth. Hope you like it, enjoy the chapter, R&R**

* * *

I stare in disappointment as the patrol leaves. Yes, I know, I'm _way _too young to join them. _Give it a century or two_, Father says. _Play with your friends instead_, Mother says. I wish I could join them out there, being a protector of the Mirkwood, battling evil spider creatures and malicious orks!

But of course, I have to wait about two hundred long, boring years. I can hardly stand to wait for one year, let alone centuries!

A familiar voice sounded behind me. One I do not like. I may be King Thranduil's son, but that doesn't stop me from being picked on. Father says to beat them up to improve my standings, but…

"Looks like the dreamer is out again. What do you want to do this time, prince boy? Go get eaten by a dragon?" The crow like voice caws behind me. That insult doesn't even _sound_ good, let alone funny, but the laughter that sounds like a flock of Fellbeasts and their riders ensues as his lackeys laugh at me.

"Aduin, that insult didn't even sound good, in fact, it didn't even sound insulting." I say, casting a bored glance back at my tormentor.

Aduin snorts back at me. "Since touching you would get me killed, your highness, I'll not break your nose for that. To think, the son of the great Thranduil is a hopeless dreamer who will never get anything done, and will more than likely be the downfall of Mirkwood."

I feel like he did break my nose. It's an old taunt, but none the less it angers me. I would like to take my father's advice. I glower at them.

"It seems I struck a nerve, didn't I?" He asks, cawing. "Sanias…"

I hardly see her move, but soon my vision explodes with spots and I stagger back, clutching at my nose. It's not broken, but bleeding.

"Are you ever going to defend yourself Legolas?" She jeers.

They are a full four years older than I am, and since we elf children age like human children, that's a lot.

"Tell anyone what happened, and it will be worse next time, dreamer boy." Sanias adds mockingly, and retreats behind her boyfriend.

There are footsteps from up the hall, and they dash away.

I do not like cowering, but I have to find a way to hide this, because I have no doubt that Sanias meant her threat. I dart off, clutching at my nose so blood doesn't stain the floor and leave evidence as to what happened.

I manage to cover it up, with great difficulty, and in case anyone notices, I have a false tale to tell them. I tripped while watching the patrol leave and my nose hit a rock. Everyone associates me with being a day dreamer, and one who spaces out. But truth be told, I'm not. I just wish I could go out with the patrols.

I hate being viewed as weak.

"Legolas," My father asks, taking notice of the bruise, "What happened to your face?"

I tell him my alibi, and he believes me, to my depression.

"Legolas, you will never become a skilled hunter unless you learn to focus! You cannot go out on patrols like you wish to if you spend your time with your head in the clouds!" He sighs, exasperated.

"I'm not hungry." I growl, and leave the table. I'm going out tonight.

The water is cold, and I want to stick my head out of the barrel, but I do not, knowing that now that I've left the city, any number of things could see me. I want to find out where these barrels go, and then explore there.

Soon I hit a patch of rapid water, and let out several startled cries as I'm thrown around in the water, and eventually hit the shore.

My heart pounds, and I wait a few moments, and then the barrel is rolled, down across the hill, and I stay completely silent as it is tossed onto the dock of the boat and the lid lazily thrown back onto it.

In what feels like an eternity, the barrels are unloaded, and I hear happy chatter around me until the barrels are put into a solitary silent area. I poke my head out and look around.

Oops, I believe I've gone too far, I never meant to come to Dale, a city of men! This is where my peoples wine comes from?

Oh well, I might as well explore while I'm here.

All I need to do is flip a hood up and smear a bit of dirt under my left eye. There, I look like a grubby human child.

I spend an hour in the city, and then I decide that this is boring, and dangerous. As much as we elves, the dwarves, and the men in the surrounding nations are trying to stop it, slavery is still going on.

Then, as I start to head over to cross the bridge, I realize that my parents will be furious with me when I come back, for they have certainly noticed my disappearance by now. Deciding that I'd rather put off the punishment, I do not cross the bridge. Instead, I head towards the docks in search of a boat I can use to paddle around the lake, you know, one of the row boats that nobody owns. Every city has some, or so my mother told me.

I want to see as much of the world as I can before going back home, or being dragged struggling and griping back to Thranduil's wrath, which is more likely.

There is a loud _psst_ from a dark alley. I know that it's coming from a man waiting to kidnap me in the shadows, so I roll my eyes and dart away, but a bit too fast and lightly, revealing that I'm an elf.

Someone emerges from the shadows. I was right, a heavyset man was waiting with a blade and a sack, no doubt meant to drag me in. I'm an elf, though, I can certainly outrun him.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one there, and as I shoot a glance back at the one chasing me, I run smack into another one.

"Getting outrun by a child, Erik?" My captor asks.

I struggle to break free, but he's holding me tightly, and I can't break lose_. Great job, Legolas! You just _had_ to hide in a wine barrel and come to Dale! _

"Stop squirming kid!" He growls, and whacks me in the back of the head. I let out a groan.

They drag me onto a boat, and throw me below deck with a few other kids and teens, all human except me, which becomes evident to the men as my hood falls off, revealing who I am.

They stare in surprise, and I glower at the men.

"Well, what do we have here? I'd say this is Legolas, son of Thranduil and prince of the Mirkwood!" The man who had just tossed me like a sack of flour exclaims.

Everyone stares at me, wide eyed. Most of them are younger than me, and it's a lot to say, because I'm currently 13. There is one older, a girl with a triple claw mark scar across her left eye, who looks about sixteen, who growls at the men. I notice that she's tied up tightly, and added to the fact that they put her in a cage in a cell, and have the lock chained down three times, means she's dangerous.

"Shut up assassin!" The man shouts. Assassin!?

"I said nothing." She snaps back at them, "But I guess I could tell you that when I'm out of here, I'll tear out your eyes and stuff them down your throats so you can see me tear you apart!" Her voice started a deadly calm, and then gradually turned into a furious shout.

One man retreated, obviously believing her. The other laughed and said, "Good luck with that, in your cell."

She snarled and threw the manacles that had previously been around her wrists, smacking him in the head with them. Then she took a knife from the sole of her shoe and cut off all of the locks, striding towards him, a lethal expression on her face.

If looks could kill, that man would've died a horrible, painful death.

"Care to restate your former comment?" She asks him, picking him up from where he lay recovering on the floor by his shirt collar. "I am Nightshade, protégé of Darkstar, who is the leader of the league of assassins. You would've done well to not cross me."

"No, p-please! Don't kill me! I-I'll pay you a l-lot! Please don't hurt me! You can take all the profits we have on the ship and go!"

She sneered at him and said, "And leave scum like you to run lose on the streets?" She was obviously mocking an earlier comment he had made to her.

It seems my inference was correct. "I didn't mean that! Honest!"

"I'd rather not have the kids see this." She informed him, and dragged him from the room.

Moments later, we all group into a tiny huddle in the far corner as the man's agonized screams reach us from some other room. Then everything goes terrifyingly silent.

Moments later, Nightshade returns, a cowl and mask hiding her entire face, only her green cat-like eyes shining through. "Come on, My job is done, and I'm sure you don't want his lackeys to come back and find you here."

There was a cry and in the blink of an eye, Nightshade had thrown a knife, and a body tumbled down. "There were only two."

She leaves.

I get to my feet, eager to be out of this mess. I see Nightshade has already vanished from the docks when I arrive, but the lackeys have come back, and seeing a horde of children lose on their deck, they come straight for us.

I race with all the speed I can muster and leap off the boat, onto the dock, and run for my life, or more truthfully, my freedom. I can only imagine my parents' reactions when they hear about this. There is a scream behind me and I stop, skidding a few feet, and then stop. A boy, about age five, has been recaptured. I look around and spot a bow, left by one of the men, grab it, hope I shoot straight, and fire.

By some miracle, I actually hit what I'm aiming at. The man drops the boy, howling and clutching at his arm, which now has an arrow in it.

Something hits me in the back of the head and I black out.

* * *

When I wake up, I'm in the cell on the boat, except this time in Nightshade's old place. There are three of the nine children that had been originally captured in the cell, and a few kids that hadn't been there before.

I sigh in defeat and slump against the cage bars. This, I can tell, will not be a pleasant trip.


	3. Chapter 3

Ismira

**Hello readers! I'd love reviews, and since this is NOT your average OC story, since the actual main character is NOT an OC, I do not own anything except for the purple dragon whose name has yet to be revealed! P.S., I hate writing disclaimers, so this is the only one you'll see, because I personally think one is enough.**

* * *

The three of us have been up all night. Snowfire has not tired yet, and I have been too frightened to sleep, as is my little friend.

I have got to find a name for it! Truthfully, I don't even know if it's a boy or a girl! Girl seems most likely though, due to the coloring. But, you never know…

I wish I brought gloves. Then I could simply disguise myself, go into town, get some food for my roaring belly, and some water to soothe my headache, but I can't because of the gedwey insignia.

I shake my head to clear it and check the map. I've been navigating by landmarks and sun positions so far, but there's no telling how long until I might get lost.

That's when I hear the thud of heavy wings above my head. A green dragon is flying my way. I gasp with joy as I recognize Firnen.

They are flying low, but still unlikely to approach.

As they get within hearing range, I shout, "ARYA! FIRNEN! DOWN HERE!"

Firnen wheels in the air and lands next to me with a thud that shakes the earth. Snowfire balks and rears up. I stroke the horse's mane to pacify him.

"Young Ismira, what are you doing here?" She asks.

At her voice, the dragon on my lap stretches its neck to look at Arya.

She looks shocked, and then as if the expression never met her face. "A dragon hatched for you." She says.

I nod. "Last night, just before the siege. My father sent me ahead on Snowfire, he said he'd hold them off. I promised to go back for him."

Arya is pinching the bridge of her nose. It isn't a gesture I'm used to seeing elves use.

"Does your uncle know?"

"He didn't call before the attack," I say, "So no."

Arya casts a spell, and then the water from the dew rises and forms a mirror like shape in the air, which displays Eragon.

"Arya, it's good to see you!" He says, smiling. I step into view with my dragon and Snowfire.

"Ismira!" He gasps. "The dragon hatched for you?"

"What does it look like?" I ask, bitterness still in my voice.

"What happened?" He asks me.

"Last night, a group of rebels attacked Carvahall. There were at least two thousand, and Roran and Katrina stayed behind to fight them off." I say.

Anger, shock, horror dominate his Elvin features.

"She speaks the truth, I received word from Blodgarm that there was an attack force moving this way, and rushed to get here from Elesmera. Apparently, I didn't come fast enough."

Eragon is shaking his head. "This couldn't have come at a worse time. There's a problem on the border of Alagaesia, a group of ships from up north are trying to steal the eggs, young dragons, and riders. If we leave New Doru Arabea alone for the length of time it would take to go to Carvahall and back would put all we've worked so hard to build at risk."

"I'm taking Ismira and her dragon to Elesmera for now. You can bring the eggs and Eldunari there." Arya says, and I feel a deep sense of rebellion, but know it's for the best. I study the grass below my feet, shoulders slumped.

Eragon sighs and says, "I will join you as soon as we win this battle, or we find a way around this obstacle. Stay safe, esterni Shur'tugalar." (Luck be with you, dragon riders)

I don't know what that means, but I probably will soon.

Arya eyes Snowfire and says, "If you are to reach Elesmera with me, you will have to leave your horse behind."

"Can you cast a spell on him to return him to my father, then?" I ask.

"Eragon once cast a spell to drive… a man to Elesmera with his true name. I can give this horse a similar enchantment."

Why did she hesitate when she said a man?

When she's done, I ask, "Arya, who is this man?"

She looks me in the eye and says, "You will figure it out later, when Eragon tells you himself, or Roran and Katrina arrive in Elesmera and tell you."

Why does everyone insist on keeping secrets from me?

Snowfire gallops off and Firnen turns to me. _"Greetings, young ones." _He says to me and my young dragon.

My little dragon chirps in reply, and I say, "Greetings to you as well Firnen."

"_Think your answers; I will hear them." _He says.

I am awed and humbled by the vast touch of his consciousness. He is a truly magnificent beast.

As Arya helps me onto the large green beast of a dragon, Firnen says, _"I believe that I am the first dragon to be ridden by two riders and another dragon." _

Arya smiles at this, and replies, _"You never know, but in truth, Saphira has as well, before she left Alagaesia she carried all of the dragon eggs and Eldunari onto a boat, and with Eragon and on one occasion, me." _

Firnen huffs a cloud of smoke and takes off. _"Not one that has already hatched, however, or that are still in their bodies. Are you trying to make me jealous of my mate's accomplishments?"_

I laugh at the comment.

My small dragon unfurls its wings and I have to hold onto it so the thing doesn't fly off like a kite and then become a baby dragon pancake on the rapidly shrinking ground.

"Have you named her?" Asks Arya.

"Actually, I didn't even know that she was a her until you said so." I reply.

Arya has no visible reaction.

The young dragoness gives a series of chirps into the air and hen a pitiful hungry cry.

"You don't happen to have any food with you, do you?" I ask Arya, "I left before I had time to pack anything."

"Nothing your dragon would eat. She will have to wait." Arya says sadly.

My little dragon lets out another starved squeal. She has huge eyes that reflect sadness and hunger.

Just now, a convenient jackdaw flies out of the trees below us. Firnen plunges and snaps his jaws around the bird, and then twists his neck to give it to us.

I get as much meat off the bird as I can and feed it to my dragoness, whose teeth are not sharp enough to pierce anything short of a blade of grass. I have to cut it into small pieces and let her swallow it whole.

Soon, only the skeleton and a few feathers remain. I realize that Arya is sad by the loss of the bird. I guess it's a rider thing that I don't know about.

I stick the skeleton and feathers into my pack, they were picked clean, and I may have use for them later.

The violet dragon is still hungry, but not starving. I stare at her frail, skeletal body and cradle her in my arms.

Arya is similarly worried for the small dragon. "Did you feed her when she first hatched?"

"No, she gave me the gedwey insignia and I passed out, and then she fell asleep on me. I never got a chance after." I say sadly.

"She could've starved if not for that bird, then, and she still might. We have to hurry."

It takes a few more hours for Firnen, being a fully grown and fast flying dragon, to reach Elesmera.

When I get off, my dragon is crying in hunger again. The elves have an answer for that, of course, and I find that I'm welcomed like one of their own.

Soon, my companion is well fed and healthy, and I'm in a building specifically made for riders, the room my uncle stayed in his days training with Oromis and Gleader.

The hallway Saphira forced her way up is still torn up, but I like it. It gives the room the dragon's lair feeling. Usually, Roran talked about how odd Eragon and Saphira slept, Saphira providing cover for Eragon.

Now, I have the sleepiest dragon of all time who will wake up and scream her head off if I leave her alone, so I'm holding her everywhere I go.

This is going to be a long few months…

* * *

Arya is busy, I notice. I can only imagine the horrors of being a dictator for all of eternity. I have been taught a lot about the ancient language by the elves in the fortnight I've been here. I've also learned a lot about swordplay.

I can never best an elf, but I know, due to the fact that I'm landing blows with my training sword, a stick actually, is a good sign.

My dragoness is growing. I wish to let her chose her own name, so for now she is just Bjartskular, or Brightscales.

Right now, The my teacher in swordplay is selecting a sword for himself while I hold mine. It is not unlike Eragon's sword, Brisingr, because our fighting styles are similar. However, with the way I swing this thing around, it wouldn't do me any real good in combat, I'd need a rider's sword, which I will receive if I pass this last test.

They're having to rush my training, which I do not appreciate. Since Eragon will be needed here in Alagaesia, I will have to be ready to help him with the threat to New Doru Arabea.

I can hardly do any magic yet, save for the one I stumbled upon by accident, kveykva, or lightning, when someone managed to breach the tough security the elves set up. I still do not know how that horrible looking human got here.

I zapped him in the chest and passed out. That was on my second day here, and I guess they decided to help me master it so I didn't try something stupid. Right now, I can hardly lift a pebble.

He hefts the blade in one hand and says, "Alright, begin."

We circle each other for a moment, and then he leaps at me like a cat. I hop to the side and swing the tip of my blade at his sword arm. He recoils and my blow does not land. He feints to the left after directing a strike at my right, and I parry edge on edge.

I hate the fact that I know he's going easy on me, so I force him out of the guise by smacking his sword aside with a flick of my wrist and whack him across the ribs. He frowns at my victory and starts fighting like an elf should.

I block and parry frantically, leaping out of the way of blows and over the ones directed to my legs, but he slips through more than once.

When the fight is over, we're covered in a lacework of bruises, which he instantly heals. "Well, I say, you've passed."

I smile and nod, and then leave to speak with Rhunon.

My dragoness, however, seems to have other ideas. As soon as we're out of sight and walking along the path, she jumps off my shoulders and stares me in the eyes.

"_Ismira."_

I freeze up. Was that my dragon?

"_Ismira."_

I know that they're telepathic, so in my mind, I reply, _"That's my name, silly! You can't have it."_

"_Ismira!"_

"_Is that the only thing you can say?" _I ask, beginning to be annoyed.

"_Yes."_

I roll my eyes. The sarcastic dragon. _"Do you have a name?"_

"_No."_

"_Then we'll have to find you one." _I reply.

But she isn't paying attention. She is staring up at the starlit night sky. _"What are those?"_

"_Those are Stars, as known by my race, the humans, and evarínya as known by the elves." _I reply.

She stares at them, and then gives a thoughtful frown. _"What is a name?"_

I tell her, _"It is what we call each other. You called me Ismira, and that is my name, for that is what I am known as." _

"_I would like to be called Evarínya." _She replied.

"_Are you sure? You only get to chose once." _I reply.

"_Yes, I am sure." _

I stare at Evarínya, and realize why she wanted that name. She wanted to be close to the heavens, to the stars.

She leaps and glides on unsteady wings, and flaps frantically into the air, small gusts churning under the dragon the size of a small dog. Evarínya swooped in front of me, flight becoming steadily easier for her.

I continue forwards and she makes a circle around me and lands, trotting across the ground next to me.

I realize that we never broke off the mental connection, but I don't really want to. I'm sure that Evarínya doesn't want to either.

We arrive at Rhunon's shop in a matter of minutes, and Evarínya seems curious when she looks at the elf. Rhunon is a more muscular elf, antisocial by anyone's reckoning, a dark contrast to the light of most of the elves.

"You passed the test?" She asks.

"Yes." I reply.

"What kind of sword did you use in training?" She asks.

"One similar to Eragon's, but I have a different method of fighting, and it tends to get in my way." I reply.

"Fighting style?" She questions me.

"Well, I usually try to swing around my opponent when he dodges and smack him with the pommel of the sword, but it's too short to do so. I tend to rely more on slashing cuts, feints, and being light on my feet. I take blows with the edge of my sword…" I run through a bit about my fighting style.

"So I understand you want the same hand-and-a-half hilt, but a longer pommel. What shape of the blade would serve you best?"

"More leaf shaped." I reply, "And a tad bit shorter."

She nods and asks, "Width of the blade at the widest point?"

I tell her, and we continue this for about an hour.

I go through the list of things she needs to know, and then she gives me a mental image of what she sees me using.

It is a sword with the same length in the blade as Brisingr, but the hilt is shorter, and on the pommel, there is a spike at the end, not sharp enough that I could accidentally damage myself, but will still cause lethal damage in combat. The blade is leaf-shaped, and looks like exactly what I could fight with.

I nod.

"Good. Now as you know, I swore an oath to never forge another sword, but as I did with Eragon and Durin, I will forge a sword through your body. You cannot resist my control, no matter what." She says.

I do not like the thought of being controlled, but I know that if I don't get over it, I'll never have a sword. I nod and let her take control of my body through my mind.

I feel helpless, like a slave to Rhunön's every intention. I can't help but feel uneasy and very uncomfortable as my body moves without my mind sending it commands.

Twice she drops the hammer on my fingers, in which times I instantly struggle to regain control, but then calm down as she heals my injuries and give her back control. I find myself lacking trust in this elf.

It takes all night and into the morning to make this sword, and I give a lot of my own energy to Rhunön so that she can finish forging the blade through my limbs.

Eventually, though, she does, and I marvel at the result, even though both of us are sagging and exhausted by the end.

Evarínya leaps into the room and marvels at the blade. _"This is a sharp claw, Ismira. What do you intend to do with it?"_

"_This is a sword. I can fight with it." _I reply, a smile of amusement flits over my face. _"If you want details on how it was made or more about blacksmithing, talk to Rhunön over there." _

I didn't mean for her to take my advice, but a shocked expression comes across her face and she looks up from where she was adding the final touches to my blade.

"Did you tell the dragon to seek advice from me about blacksmithing?" She asks accusingly.

"I said if she wanted to."

"_The dragon's name is Evarínya." _Evarínya snorts.

"A fortnight old and she already is using her telepathic abilities and has chosen a name. Why did she choose to name herself Star?" Rhunön asks.

"Ask her."

"_Yes, ask me." _She launches in a drawn out explanation of why she chose the name, and I smile, still amused, as Rhunön's face leaves shocked for annoyed after a few snide comments from Evarínya.

"Perhaps you and Evarínya should wait outside while I finish this." Rhunön says.

We leave, and Evarínya starts to laugh. It's a deep, throaty, gravelly noise. I have no idea why.

"_Why are you laughing?" _I ask.

"_I won! I succeeded in being annoying enough to make her make us leave the bad-smelling metal making place!"_ She cheers.

I blink. _"Bad smelling? The only thing that bothered me was the mild steam and the heat."_

"_You are not a dragon, so I shouldn't expect you to know, but I know from your memory that it smells like you'd thing smoked cow manure would taste." _Evarínya wrinkles her nose.

"_I don't think I needed to know that." _I reply, rolling my eyes.

"_Why would you not want to know something, or need to not?" _She asks.

I can't help but smile.

She leaps into the air into another unsteady flight and soars around the area, eventually landing in a tree, making the limb bend dangerously. She squeaks and leaps to a sturdy branch, and the tree sways a bit, she manages to stay on.

* * *

A few hours later…

Rhunön comes out with my sword. It is a gorgeous violet, the same color as my Evarínya's scales. On the pommel, just before the spike on the back, is an amethyst, where I know I can store energy for spell casting.

"You will finish your education with Eragon and the other riders in New Doru Arabea, but now you must travel quickly. For that, Arya has volunteered to take you as far as the border on the Edda River." Rhunön says, "But for now, let's see how that sword works."

I take a few swings, and it feels like I was destined to hold this blade. It seems to shine in my hands.

"Now, what is its name?" She asks me.

I think for a moment, and then stare into the designs. I have a name, due to the very pale, almost white, color of the sword, the same color as the scales below Evarínya's neck and stomach, but still a very light shade of purple, making it glow. White Lightning, or Hvitr Kveykva. I tell her the name, and she nods her approval. Then she promptly snatches the sword and does an intricate spell, and then the name in the ancient language appears on the blade in black script.

She hands it to me, and then a sheath, one to match my sword. She must've thrown it together in a rush, or just enchanted a normal one.

Evarínya jumps down from the trees and lands with a solid thud next to me. There is a leaf impaled on one of her spikes. _"Is it done yet? Ah, I see it is, now where were we?"_

"Now, you have your sword, now go before I am tempted to take it back and use it to behead your annoying little dragon." She growls at me.

We walk away. _"Now look what you've done!" _

"_I couldn't help it!"_

"_Obviously. Now, where do we meet Arya?"_

"_I dunno."_

"_Why did I let her leave Snowfire behind?"_

"_Because… Never mind, I don't want to annoy you. Let's just go up to our room."_

"_Chamber/dragon hold."_

"_Oh."_

I roll my eyes and we head back up inside.

* * *

But for some reason, when sleep finally takes me, I find myself staring into the eyes of an imprisoned elf child. He looks in horrible condition, and I can't help but wonder who he is.

"Who are you?" I ask.

He does not respond until he falls asleep as well, and I see from a distance, suddenly realizing he's seeing my sleeping form.

"Who are you?" He asks.

"Ismira. Who are you?" I repeat my earlier question.

He spins around, as if not realizing that I had ever been here.

"L-Legolas."

"That's an odd name."

"So is yours, from what I know about humans." He replies.

"_Who are you, elf?" _Asks an indignant voice. Evarínya appears besides me. _"Only I get to run around in Ismira's head!"_

He blinks and says, "I think that we're all either crazy and hallucinating, trapped by some dark magic, or that I am in a waking dream."

"Agreed, this never happened." I say, and frown, then ask, "Now how do we get out of this?"

"I guess we wake up?"

"I feel pretty awake already." I say.

He frowns and says, "Well, this is problematic."

_"Well, for a start, you boneheads could keep it down. I can't go to sleep with all this yammering going on in the back of my skull."_ Evarínya growls.

"You could simply block my thoughts out." I say.

_"I knew that." _My dragon remarks.

"So, back to the earlier topic." Legolas says, "I am stumped, and by the looks of things, so are you."

"No kidding, and… Um, Evarínya?" I look around for my dragon, and see her on the ghost me, sound asleep.

So we end up having a conversation.

"If I am to understand correctly, you were kidnapped by slavers from the north…" Suddenly, a thought occurs to me. "The ship you're on hasn't been attacked by furious dragons yet, has it?" I ask.

"Twice I've heard ferocious roars…"

"You're on those ships that are giving Uncle Eragon and Saphira all that trouble! I'm going there tomorrow, well, at least halfway, I think." I say.

"You think?"

"Yep. I don't know the way, but I _do _know that Evarínya is too small to fly for a long distance, least of all carry me. I might be a while, meaning my uncle may have broken you out by then, that or Saphira will have burned the ship to cinders. Unlikely, though, don't worry."

"You seem stressed."

"No kidding. I just got thrown out of Carvahall by a group of rebels who have probably taken over half of Alagaesia by now, have had my training rushed by the elves so I can go learn from Eragon, just had my body controlled by an elf named Rhunön so she could make me a sword without breaking her oath to never make a sword again, and am leaving at dawn to head over to where you are. I haven't slept in three days."

"In that situation, you'd have to be insane to not be stressed out." Legolas comments dully. I like this guy.

"That, or the person in the situation is part of my family, which come to think about it, we're all a bit crazy. My Grandfather once removed killed an evil dragon rider named Morzan, Eragon killed the tyrant emperor Galbatorix and his dragon, Shruikan, well, actually that was Arya. My father and uncle went off and killed off a race of monstrous creatures called the Ra-zac and the Lethrblaka, My mother and father got married in the middle of a war, stuff like that." I roll my eyes.

"Well, I agree with you. Your family is crazy." He says.

I glare at him.

"I did not mean to offend you!" He replies hurriedly, realizing what he'd just said.

I laugh, and then say, "It's fine, I know you weren't saying it as an insult."

"Good, and didn't you say you had to leave at dawn?" He asks, pointing to the mirage of me.

I see morning light flooding in through the ghost of myself and swear violently. "Yes, I leave at dawn, and it is dawn! Curses, I hope this works!" I plunge into my ghost imitation…

And wake up.

I wonder if Legolas is going to be okay. He probably will be, but I guess one can never be too certain, or certain enough.

I realize that I can't get up. Somehow, overnight, Evarínya had a growth spurt. She is now the size of a pony and laying on me. I grunt and inform her, _"Evarínya, we must go, and you are crushing me." _I inform the previously small dragon, who jumps up and falls off of my stomach. I gasp with relief, but feel eyes following me as I straighten the outfit that I'd worn to sleep last evening. Oops.

I leap out of the room at top speed, pausing only to strap the sword and sheath to my waist before racing out to the courtyard, where Arya and Fírnen were waiting for us, combing my hair with my fingers along the way.

Evarínya leaps out of the balcony and flies down while I simply vault off the railing and do a quick roll before regaining my feet and rushing over to Arya.

Arya blinks, surprised at Evarínya's size, but then it's like the expression was never there.

"_Young one, can you fly on your own?" _Firnen asks, knowing he can't carry her now.

"_Yes. And I have a name now." _She replies.

"W_hat is your name, young one?"_

"_Evarínya." _She replies.

He nods and motions for me and Arya to get on his back, and we take off.

Evarínya is unsteady during the takeoff, but in the air, she flies unfaltering, confidence in her eyes. We soar over the forest, past the Crags of Tel'naeír, and over the forest. Evarínya soars beside and a bit above Fírnen 's left wing, and we bid Elesmera farewell.


End file.
